Dissida Union
by vikung-fu
Summary: Originally posted as non-sequential fragments of tales for Dissidia Union Meeting #1, Riku, Zack Fair, Sherlotta and Rydia find themselves lost within the game of the god of harmony and the god of discord.


"_**Dissidia Union"**_

**Forgotten Soldiers (1/4): Zack Fair**

There was water beneath the tread his boots, a gentle current breaking over the surface of the fresh pair he had retrieved from the locker before heading out.

On the horizon, there was no sun, yet a dim light suffused the surroundings, particles of illumination catching the crescent moon atop the pitiful marble seat that resided before him. High above, arcs of narrow green light stretched back and forth, firm enough to hold onto if he hefted himself up upon them yet insubstantial enough to pass through if he ignored them.

The entire world seemed to be made up of water and serene light, its glow dim yet constant.

Upon his back, he felt the weight of the colossal familial sword – his sword; _Angeal's_ sword. It was a sign of honour and pride, a mark of respect for friends lost to the violence of discord.

It was the sword that tied him to the real world; the sword that reminded him that he still had a reason to fight, a reason to _remember_.

Without hesitation, he advanced.

* * *

**Forgotten Soldiers (2/4): Riku**

Amidst the darkness, only this world shone with enough light to summon him from the shadow; only this world, balanced equally between illumination and obfuscation was enough to stir the heart that still beat beneath the black robes he had assumed.

For the briefest of moments, he thought he had been returned to Castle Oblivion. Yet the world around him was far from fully formed, rather it was a fragment, a shard of the original fortress in the world between worlds.

DiZ had warned of such tribulations, had spoken of the division of worlds in the darkness and the way in which the ties of shadow had changed them. He understood too well about how a fragment of memory, a cherished sentiment, could be lost in the void.

Before him, another of the crystalline puppets appeared, a robed figure cast from crystal and adorned in tarnished armour.

He recognised the imperfect reflection and reached without pause to the air, summoning the Keyblade once more to his grasp.

* * *

**Forgotten Soldiers (3/4): Sherlotta**

Sherlotta was instinctively suspicious of the child with the green hair, struggling against her natural maternal instincts and the sudden, seeming abruptness with which the youth had manifested before her.

Prone amongst the ash, the child was a recent addition to the scenario she had found herself trapped within. Yet there was something familiar about the child's slumbering features and, whilst the great crystal was undoubtedly distant from where they presently resided, she could sense the presence of other crystals, crystals that carried with them a sense of unnerving disquiet.

"Hey you," she said, standing above the child, her hands on her hips and her tail sweeping the floor behind her, "time to wake up."

The girl stirred but did not open her eyes.

Sherlotta's expression deepened in frown.

"I said it's time to wake up!" she said louder, leaning close and glowering down at the sleeping child.

With a sudden cry, the girl awoke.

* * *

**Call of Memory (1/5)**

A sudden flicker of light caught his attention, the shimmering movement of gold upon the water he waded through. He turned, the weight of the sword upon his back and the illumination of the green trails of spirit energy above flicking upon the cool steel of the Buster Sword.

An instant smile touched his lips, the wave of a friendly hand as his brilliant blue eyes caught sight of a pale woman before him, crowned in gold and robed in white linen.

Her face was familiar, her appearance resonating within his memory. He recalled a church, the warmth of summer flowers beneath him and a playful voice calling to him from far away… and yet all at once, this stranger before him was not the girl from his memory, but rather the echo of her.

This woman was somehow more regal, somehow less human, yet also equally touched by sorrow.

"Hey! What's the sad face for?" he inquired, proudly standing before her in the shadow of the aged shrine.

Slowly, she lifted saddened eyes towards him.

* * *

**Call of Memory (2/5)**

The Keyblade tore into crystal, splintering ice like fragments from the imposter's form and sending it tumbling to the tiled white floor beneath him.

His opponent faltered and he pushed down harder against the curve of the blade, sundering the imitation and shattering crystal before him in an explosive release of _EX_ energy.

What was left of the figure fell in pieces to the ground and slowly, Riku straightened up, his feline eyes hidden beneath the hood of his coat.

The crystalline enemies he had encountered within the fragment of the castle had been increasing, their numbers swelling as he ventured further down disjointed corridors and into the heart of memory.

It was as if there was something about which the frail _manikins_ gathered, something they were sworn to protect.

A shudder ran beneath his feet and he felt his teeth grind together as, over his shoulder, he caught sight of that same gathering of free energy that signalled the emergence of another manikin.

He turned partially, catching a glimpse of a transparent girl with a staff in hand and a swaying tail and then, abruptly, leapt to the side as a crystal sword cut through the air where once he had been.

Again, he raised the shadowy Keyblade, his gloved fingers tightening around the hilt.

The two manikins advanced from either side, their faces devoid of expression.

* * *

**Call of Memory (3/5)**

"The all lacks balance," she said sadly, her eyes fixed ahead and yet seemingly staring right through him, "yet in your heart, I believe there is courage enough to make a further path through these realms, one bound neither to harmony nor discord but rather to _honour_."

With a grin, he puffed out his chest, indicating himself with a thumb.

"Of course! Don't you recognise this uniform? I'm SOLDIER First Class!" he beamed.

"You are… much like him," she said softly, her unblinking eyes continuing to stare blankly ahead.

Zack's expression changed, the playfulness of his nature suddenly transformed into earnest concern.

"Angeal? Angeal is here?"

Slowly, she shook her head from side to side, her hair moving only faintly with the motion.

"He is not," she answered quietly, "yet of the other, there is a strong resonance. He, along with those who fight alongside him, will break the fated circle of combat."

Zack frowned, his expression altering once again as he lifted a gloved hand and scratched his head.

"My memory's not so good so I'm not sure who you mean but if this other you mention is fighting for a dream to end battles, then I'm going to support that dream too. Being SOLDIER First Class isn't just about being strong, you know, it's about _knowing_ when to use that strength."

Her lips curled in a weak smile.

"A further path," she repeated and at last her eyes fixed upon him, "one bound neither to harmony nor discord but rather to _honour_."

* * *

**Call of Memory (4/5)**

He dropped into a dodge roll, once again avoiding the slash of the manikin's colossal blade, yet behind him the female puppet had already lashed out with her staff, a jagged blossom of ice erupting from the jewelled end of the weapon and slamming hard into his side.

He grunted, the hood falling back to reveal a warm complexion and a fierce glare.

The first manikin remained indifferent to the revelation of his appearance, once more hefting the sword up above his head and preparing to strike.

Riku dived forward, avoiding a backhanded swipe from the cat-tailed manikin's staff and driving the Keyblade into the exposed chest of the first opponent.

There came a sound like breaking glass and he smiled savagely, assured that he had rendered his enemy defenceless.

The sword fell from the manikin's hand and shattered effortlessly against the tiles as Riku rose up to his full height once more.

Behind him, he sensed the presence of the other moving swiftly towards him.

His smile never faltered.

* * *

**Forgotten Soldiers (4/4): Rydia**

Rydia blinked in startled amazement, unnerved by the stranger who stood above her, hands on hips and feline tail swishing angrily about behind her.

"I said it's time to wake up!" the woman repeated, a stern frown on her face.

Rydia nodded in confused agreement and struggled to her feet, accepting a proffered hand when eventually the woman deigned to reach out for her.

"W-Where are we?" she asked, looking hesitantly about her.

There was little illumination in the darkened room and thus there was no way they could guess the expanse of the aged fortress. There was nothing but the suggestion of scale, the cold wind billowing in from the shattered roof.

Sherlotta's nose wrinkled, her brow furrowed as she attempted to ascertain their location.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, "what do you last remember?"

Rydia thought for a moment and then shook her head.

"Nothing. I… I can't remember anything."

The older woman nodded sagely.

"No," she murmured softly, "me neither."

* * *

**Call of Memory (5/5)**

The staff clashed against his Keyblade and deftly he deflected it, overpowering the manikin with his strength and sending the absurd crystalline entity staggering to one side.

Without pause, he readied the blade and struck out, carving through the shimmering outline of the puppet and breaking it open into chunks of tainted crystal with a final burst of movement.

He sneered, the cruel lips of his assumed appearance twisting in contempt as he released the Keyblade and it dissipated once more into particles of spirit energy.

As the Keyblade faded into non-existence, awaiting his summons when once more it was needed, so too the illusion of Castle Oblivion vanished, the world before him transformed into a furnace of flames and ash.

His heart faltered as his eyes caught sight of the giant stone throne before him and the hideous horned beast that resided upon it, it many arms folded across its chest.

Eyes moved slowly within its fearful face, its monstrous countenance shifting to an expression of amusement at the sight the black robed youth before it.

"All shadow," it announced, its first resonating loudly throughout the wasteland, "all _darkness_ leads back to me."

With a terrible roar, the creature rose up from its throne, arms thrown wide and eyes lifted to the burning skies.

Undaunted, Riku summoned the Keyblade once more to his hand and lunged into the maelstrom of fire and ash.

* * *

**Odyssey (1/1)**

_Within the aged halls of Pandemonium, two travellers journey in search of answers._

_From the shrine amidst the running waters and beneath arcs of cold illumination, another seeks to forge a new path ahead through circumstance tumultuous, whilst, at the foot of grand Chaos' throne, a last traveller wields his blade in the face of unimaginable horror. _

_Amidst fragments of worlds and from tales untold, each journeys onward towards destiny._

_These stories have yet to be told._

_These tales have yet to be known._

_The odyssey continues._


End file.
